This Christmas Is Ours To Share
by The Convergence
Summary: For Lilly. Is it possible for John Winchester to be right? Can Dean enjoy a Christmas he didn't want? Even if he gets nothing else, Sam is about to find out.


**The Convergence Secret Santa 2016**

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 **For:** Lilly  
 **Character:** Sam Winchester  
 **Other Characters Used:** John Winchester, Dean Winchester  
 **Rating:** K+  
 **Genre(s):** Family  
 **Message to your person:** Merry Christmas Lilly! I hope you have a wonderful day :)

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 **This Christmas Is Ours To Share**

 _Is it possible for John Winchester to be right? Can Dean enjoy a Christmas he didn't want? Even if he gets nothing else, Sam is about to find out._

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Sam came to with a startled jump, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. At first glance, there was nothing in the room to suggest why he'd woken up so suddenly. He couldn't even recall being in the middle of a nightmare. For some reason, he'd just startled himself awake.

"Hello, son."

All of Sam's restraint had to go into not jumping again. The voice, however, was painfully familiar. It told Sam instantly that he had to be dreaming—that he had not, in fact, woken up only moments ago. His father had long since died and left him and Dean behind. "You're not real," he said simply, unable to bring himself to so much as peek briefly at the deceased man. "I'm just dreaming."

John raised an eyebrow. "You of all people should know dreams can be more than real," he pointed out, the hint of a reprimand in his tone.

"I haven't had one of those dreams in years," Sam said, blunt and short. He tugged the blanket back up around himself, planning to nestle down and get out of his 'dream' as fast as possible. "Sorry if I'm not in the mood to have you acting like you know better, after being dead so many years."

He heard a tut, and then suddenly the bed had vanished from beneath him. Out of nowhere, he was standing, fully clothed, directly in front of John. "That's not what this is about," John said, shaking his head at his son. Frustrated that he couldn't just wake up, Sam narrowed his eyes at John, then looked around as though his bed would magically reappear.

"Then what _is_ this about?" Sam demanded when he'd realised his bed wasn't going to be making a reappearance any time soon. "It's been a long time since I've needed a lesson from you, trust me."

"Dean," John replied instantly, and Sam nearly scoffed. Never had his father given such a straightforward answer. Everything had seemed to be a riddle or a puzzle with him. "Don't roll your eyes at me. This is about Dean."

With a bitter chuckle, Sam shook his head and folded his arms. "I don't need _you_ to talk to me about Dean," he said firmly.

"I know how you can help him," John said, and if Sam hadn't known better, he might have said there was something akin to desperation in his father's voice. "Help him withstand the Mark of Cain."

A frown graced Sam's brow. "How?" he asked despite himself, because even a dream's advice had to be better than no advice.

"Give him Christmas," was all John said, a smile playing at his lips. Sam wanted to punch him. Instead, he rolled his eyes.

"Great. Thanks. Really helpful," he retorted sarcastically. "Dean doesn't want to celebrate Christmas. He made that pretty clear." Which was true enough. He'd all but exploded when Sam had broached the topic of Christmas. Apparently, his brother had a vendetta against all things nice.

( _Because of the Mark_ , Sam had to remind himself. It wasn't all that comforting.)

"He loves Christmas. He always has," John insisted. "Even if he won't always admit it. You know, your first Christmas, it was Dean who forced me to make it as close to normal as possible? No house, no anything, really, but Dean kept pushing and pushing. It was difficult, but we did it."

Sam swallowed. "I'm not going to make him celebrate if he doesn't want to."

"It's something human for him to hold onto," John said, his voice getting a little quieter. "Please, Sam. He won't hate you. All the times Dean has spent Christmas alone, or not celebrated it at all, he's still known it was Christmas. And still been miserable because of it. He needs it."

There was still hesitation on Sam's face. "We don't even have anything in to celebrate," he pointed out, though his resolve was starting to fade.

John could apparently see that, because he smiled. "I'm sure you'll figure something out," he told him. "You know, that Christmas before Dean went to Hell is still one of his favourite memories."

The dream was becoming fuzzier around the edges, fazing out of existence. Sam opened his mouth to reply, to say anything. He didn't have chance.

He awoke with a start again in his dark, empty room.

 **.x.x.x.**

A delicious waft of the smell of food hit Dean's nose almost as soon as he walked out of his room. That was weird in itself; it was always Dean who did the cooking in the bunker, never Sam. Even when he'd wanted to, Dean had preferred to do it himself.

"What are you doing?" he asked, pausing in the doorway of the kitchen. Sam whipped around, his hands clad in oven mitts, which caused an amused grin to cross Dean's face.

"Cooking," Sam said, shooting him a look, as if daring him to laugh. "For Christmas," he added, at Dean's confused expression.

A variety of emotions seemed to cross Dean's face. "Oh," he said, frowning ever so slightly. "I thought we weren't doing that this year."

Sam shrugged. "I figured we might as well do _something_. Better than sitting around all day," he said matter-of-factly. "Your presents are over there," he told his brother, nodding to a kitchen counter, where, sure enough, a small pile of presents lay.

Dean still look a little confused. "I haven't got you anything," he said, instead of moving towards the gifts.

"That's fine," Sam assured him. "I mean, this was fairly last minute. I wouldn't expect you to."

Despite still looking hesitant, Dean moved towards the presents, and didn't complain once as he began to open them up.

 **.x.x.x.**

There were no complaints during the meal. For once, Dean didn't have any sort of mood swing. He laughed and chatted and it was easy to pretend, just for a little while, that there wasn't something like a ticking time bomb inside of the eldest Winchester.

They watched stupid Christmas movies, mocked the insensibility of the various portrayals of Santa Claus, and instead of being monster hunters, the image of a normal(ish) family was created.

And though Sam didn't get any gifts on that day, when he woke up the next morning, it was to a small pile of them at the foot of his bed.

A grin found a place on his face, happy in the knowledge Dean had enjoyed Christmas – and that their dad had been right, just for once.

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 **Disclaimer:** The Convergence Roleplay and any themes related to it belong to Rhya and Lena (links on profile). All OC's belong to their respective creators, all Canon Characters belong to their respective franchises and all credit for the fic itself goes to the Santa who wrote it.

 **The Convergence Roleplay:** Trapped in a new world, with no way out. Characters from 19 different worlds have been brought together and must struggle in a world that constantly creates more mysteries than it solves. With no new answers ever coming to light, they must start to wonder - is there really a reason why they're here?

The Convergence is a multifandom roleplay, featuring Supernatural, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Harry Potter, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, The Vampire Diaries, The Hunger Games, Merlin, Once Upon a Time, Divergence, Fox MCU, Star Trek, The Maze Runner, the DC Extended and Television Universes, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Mortal Instruments and House M.D and the various spin-offs. Check out the link in the profile for more information!


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